


from ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

by eoghainy



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8509987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eoghainy/pseuds/eoghainy
Summary: multiple drabbles based upon the mortal instrument series by cassandra clare.





	1. photograph

**Author's Note:**

> based upon a text post i found on tumblr ! x

"Who is texting you now?" Magnus complained as Isabelle slipped her phone out of her pocket, carefully leaning over the Shadowhunter's shoulder to catch a glimpse at the message. "You're supposed to be helping me pick out a new eyeliner! Remember?"

Skillfully, Isabelle danced out of the way, a smile pulling up her lips. "I am. You can't expect me to not answer messages; it could be Simon. Hey, it could be Alec for all you know." Her ebony gaze glittered as her fingers tapped on the screen, patiently waiting for her inbox to load.

"Actually," Magnus muttered, "I  _do_  know if it's Alec or not. 'Cause he's busy with Jace. Did you not get the memo?" Sarcasm dripped like poison from his words, but it faded when she simply shrugged him off.

"I got it. But I need a girls day and you're helping me with that." Isabelle countered, a curious expression appearing on her features when she didn't recognize the number. With another tap, she clicked on that message thread cursing when the blank picture message took too long to load. "The service in this store  _sucks_!"

"You're telling me," the warlock sighed, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. "I'm going to go look at the eyeshadow. Call for me when you're not as distracted."

Isabelle only rolled her eyes after her shrug, resisting the urge to smile. It took a few more seconds for the message to load, and when it finally did, she almost dropped her phone in surprise. Her hands fumbled to get a grasp upon the item before it falls to the ground, and she pauses; taking another moment to stare at the picture that  _finally_ loaded.

James Carstairs was on her screen. In his arms he held a familiar cat that seemed more than happy to be held by someone who  _truly_  loved him. Jem's lips were curled up into the most genuine smile, chocolate optics glimmering with an emotion that Isabelle could only associate with love. Most likely it was Tessa whom had taken the photo and the two of them had sent it from Jem's phone.

Squinting, she continued to stare at the photo before a sigh escaped her. "That hot bastard." Was all she mumbled before following after Magnus, pocketing her phone _after_ she had saved the picture.


	2. stay with me

"Don't vomit here," Isabelle warned, handing her older brother another ice pack. "I'm _not_ cleaning it up." 

Alec merely groaned in response. 

Yesterday was officially Boxing Day; which meant parties  _galore._ The only one that Alec had been remotely interested in was Magnus Bane's. 

Magnus was a senior, completing his last year of college before disappearing from campus entirely. It was a cliché situation, yes, Alec knew that. He had a giant crush on Magnus, and Magnus had no clue he even existed. 

Until last night, of course. 

The eldest Lightwood boy was a dumbass. Magnus was quite popular with the ladies, especially Camille Belcourt, and had decided to throw a damned party! So what did Alec do? He went to the party. All night he had glowered at that stupid blonde, all whilst dumping drink after drink down his throat. 

Jace had run off to suck face with Clary that night, which had left Alec in an even worse mood. Isabelle had skipped out on the party to, and he quotes, ' _decorate her first college dorm room!_ ' But when Alec had finally crept back in this morning, he could  _swear_ that he could smell Simon's disgusting cologne. 

He wasn't going to press things, no. Not after what he had done. 

Somehow, Alec had managed to catch Magnus' eye. Was it his lack of fashion sense? His shabby sweater, and torn jeans? Or maybe it was his messily tousled hair? He would never know. By then, his gaze had been incredibly hazy and he had had trouble focusing on what was right in front of him. 

A strained, drunken hello led to intense liplocking, and then to screwing. 

Now, Alexander Gideon Lightwood was gay, and so far back in the fucking closet that he was in Narnia. He had been in love with his adoptive brother for the past, what, nine years? And boy, he's never had a boyfriend before! 

So, officially, sleeping with Magnus Bane last night was his first time. 

 _Ever_. 

He was an idiot, and he was paying for it with a sore ass, and a hangover that would probably hospitalize most people. 

Jace's footsteps sounded too loud as he sauntered in, humming delightfully to himself. "Good morning, Izzy!" He greeted, in an unusually good mood. "G-oh my god, Alec," mock concern suddenly darkened his tone. 

Even though Alec couldn't see him, he was _sure_ the fucker was grinning.

"Your neck looks like it's been attacked by a hummingbird!" 

"It's called a wood-pecker, dumbass." Alec snapped. 

"Someone's wood was attacked last night, and I'm guessing it was yours." Even Jace was now teasing him. Great. 

Again, Alec groaned. "I'm going to kill all of you." 

He had spent a majority of his night in Magnus' bed, doing many dirty things that he couldn't bring himself to be ashamed of. What the hell, right? It's not everyday you sleep with Magnus Bane and get away with it! 

The question is,, how did he carry on like usual? At this point, Alec was incredibly sure he was in love with Magnus. His heart ( _and another part of him_ ) throbbed painfully every time the stupid Indonesian frat boy crossed his mind. Every time Alec reprimanded himself because of two reasons; 

One: Magnus was with Camille.   
Two:  _Magnus was with Camille_. 

This just sucked and wouldn't end well for him. He was quite sure that the other boy had forgotten about what they had done; it was only natural! If Alec were in his shoes, he would have made himself forget, too. 

"Guys, I'm in so much trouble." Was all he could think to say as he leaned forward, allowing his forehead to meet with the marble counter. 

He deserved that. 


	3. masturbates

What could you do when you were a closeted, sexually frustrated, homosexual teenage boy? 

Not much, considering that he was a Shadowhunter! Being gay was bad enough; but acting upon his feelings, and getting a boyfriend? Well, that would end up terribly for him. Besides; what else could you do when you were deathly in love with your adopted brother? 

Absolutely  _nothing_. You were stuck. 

But ... after a certain party that led to a certain friend being turned into a rat, and later then a trainwreck of a first date ...

Oh, yes; there was a new object of Alexander's affection. Someone strange and unique; someone who was the polar opposite to Jace in looks. Dark hair; dark skin; lack of bellybutton; slitted pupils, and golden irises; a  _Downworlder_ , to say in the least. If he dared tell his family he was dating a man, he was going to be disowned. 

Tell them that he was dating a  _Downworlder_? Yikes; both he and Magnus would be dead! 

So, when you have never gotten laid before, and were struggling with your own emotions,  _and_  were sexually frustrated, what could you do to ease it? The incredibly sinful act of masturbation! 

Alec had never been a big fan of anything sexual regarding his own hand. His brain had always been focused on the same three things; cleansing the world, slaying demons, and keeping up with his amazing siblings. There was no time to lay back on his bed, think of a few dirty situations, and relieve himself. 

No. From getting kicked; punched; bitten; poisoned; nearly-killed; and then almost paralyzed? There was absolutely no time. Even on days that had no strenuous work planned out, he still had no time; Hodge always made  _sure_  all four of them had enough to do. 

Today was ripe for the taking, albeit. Hodge was gone; his parents were in meetings; Jace was moping over Clary; Isabelle was tormenting that weird rat-kid Simon; Max was supposed to be studying; and Alec? Oh, Alec was had nothing better to do than fix his situation. 

More often than not, his thoughts would be filled with Jace. Those bronzed hands sliding down his skin; golden optics gazing down into Alec's own cerulean; golden hair tousled from where Alec had grabbed at it. 

This time, someone else took Jace's spot. Tanned hands were cupping Alec's cheeks; gaze tainted and darkened by lust. Dark lips were parted; a breath being hitched inside of his throat. A familiar waist was rutting into his own, making the younger Shadowhunter shudder with delight. 

This fantasy that played inside of his head had actually happened, once. After his  _total-failure-of-a-date-that-ended-up-in-a-heated-makeout-session_ , Alec had almost gotten laid. 

 _Almost_. That was the key word.

Magnus had been so beautiful; so considerate of his thoughts, and what Alec was ready for. With his jeans far too tight, his brain clouded by want and desire, and his face flushed with embarrassment, Alec had thus fallen down the stairs whilst trying to exit, before realizing that maybe, just maybe, this was something good. 

Maybe he was on the path to having a healthy relationship. 

Just thinking of Magnus' lips upon his own, and all over his skin, was enough to make Alec uncomfortable. His breath was already labored; skin crawling with heat; pants beginning to tighten. 

For the Angel's sake, he felt like a uncontrollable horny fifteen year old that got an erection at any given moment! 

Even when he was fifteen, he hadn't really felt comfortable touching himself. Especially now, he _still_ didn't feel comfortable touching himself. He knew it was only natural and normal to have at least masturbated once, but it made Alec feel dirty. It was far too soon to have sex with Magnus; for his sake, and the others, they needed to take it slow. Each touch needed to remain soft and gentle; each interaction needed to be curious, and easygoing; everything needed to be simple before they finally got intimate, in that manner.

Desperate to relieve the heat that was pooling inside of his abdomen and free the uncomfortable bulge between his legs, Alec hastily undid the button on his jeans, and unzipped the fly, tossing them onto the floor. Next came his boxers; getting caught around his knees and ripping a string of curses from his lips. It was never like this; he usually was more careful with his clothes, folding them on the bed to keep them from getting soiled, or wrinkled. He would typically be careful with himself, too; hesitant and unsure of what he was doing. In the end, he would always be unsatisfied; lacking what he  _really_ wanted.

It was unfortunately true. Alexander Gideon Lightwood has absolutely no clue as to how you masturbate. Everything was so new to him!

But, as he thought about Magnus, and his  _perfect,_ thin lips ... 

A groan slipped from Alec's lips as he wrapped his calloused hand around his shaft, running his hand upwards. His thumb ran over the head of his length, a choked moan soon following. He could imagine Magnus' lips pressing against his skin, teeth gripping his skin. Already, he could hear the obscene sucking noises that Magnus would (  _purposely_ ) make to fluster Alec even more.

Each movement was made erratic as he hurried; chasing his own orgasm with an enthusiasm that startled him. The callouses on his fingers and his palms were adding to his sense of euphoria; sparking a strange sense of arousal inside of him. He usually disliked the feeling of his callouses against his erection; it typically put him off. He hated the feel of them sliding against his sensitive skin, but now, he could hardly stand to breathe as the sensation made him begin to tremble.

Alec's back arched off of the bed as his half-assed, desperate jerking made him needier. He could picture Magnus touching him; holding him; kissing him; rutting against him;  _fucking him into a goddamned mattress_ —-

A horse cry ripped from Alec's lips as the terse coil unraveled in his abdomen; sensations of shock and warmth vibrating through his body. Warm fluid leaked out from the head of his length, all over his fingers. His back straightened as he lay back on the bed, his muscles relaxing. After a moment of laying back on the bed, inhaling deeply to come down from his high; Alec reached for the tissues he had brought into the room earlier. It didn't take him too long to clean up, get dressed, and compose himself again.

Yet, he looked as if he had been through something. His hair was damped with sweat; flattened to his temples as his hair dried. Still, his cheeks were flushed; his cerulean optics far too bright; and he still hadn't caught his breath. By the Angel, he had it  _bad_ for Magnus Bane. 


	4. please don't go

There's a hesitation in the way that Catarina looks at him. Almost as if she were shielding herself from the pain of him being there, she turned away from him; one hand moving to grace against her shoulder. She was tiny and slender; it wasn't too hard to angle herself away so that she didn't have to face him. Too soon, she knew that she was going to have to wake up; face the reality that he was  _gone_.

Warm fingers touched the bare portion of her arm, causing Catarina to flinch. 

"What's the matter?" Ragnor murmured, his hurt shining through the tone of his voice. It was stolen moments like this that made both of them ache.

"I-I can't be here with you; not like this," she answers. The blue-hued warlock swallowed roughly against the lump in her throat, fighting back the tears that were beginning to push against her waterlines. "We didn't have enough time in the waking world to be together. We didn't have any time; we  _never_ acted on our feelings because we assumed that we ... that the  _other_ didn't return them. Yet, we so obviously did. Ragnor," she whirled around to stare at him, "I was so deeply in love with you. How did you fail to see? I thought I was being as obvious as possible, but you neglected to see how much I adored you."

Ragnor cupped her cheeks, his green skin stark against her blue. She shuddered at the touch, knowing that it wasn't real.  _He_ wasn't real. But nothing felt realer than the goosebumps rising along her skin from where his fingers touched. "I didn't want you to know that I was in love with you; I didn't want you to  _see_ how deeply in love I was with you. I should have told you; should have said something. It was torture, being around you and never saying something."

Never had he opened himself up to her like this; he was usually so quiet, so determined to hide himself away from her. It always bothered her, yes; but now she got to see the side of him that he never showed to anyone. The side that he locked away; constantly making himself out to be an unfeeling asshole. 

His grasp upon her cheeks tightened, enough to comfort her. His thumbs brushed away the tears that dripped down her cheeks, a stupid smile pulling up his lips. He was so beautiful;  _why_ did he have to die?  _Why_ did he have to go off and leave her alone? She had to suffer all alone; even if she had Magnus there, helping her along with the emotions she had been struggling through for so long, he would never fill the hole Ragnor left. After the loss of her fianceé, she had never thought that she could love again. 

Then along came Ragnor Fell, seen in a new light by her, and she  _fell_.

Soft, warm lips crushed down on hers; startling Catarina from her thoughts. Eagerly, she kissed him back; feeling her arms wrap around his neck, and twist amongst the white strands of his hair. The kissing became rapid and desperate; teeth clashing, noses bumping, and  _someone_ bit  _someone_ so hard that they were beginning to bleed. At that moment, whilst they pursued the ideal of desperate passion, Catarina forced herself to pull away. She touched her forehead against Ragnor's, feeling him shiver against her. 

Ragnor's hands were resting on her hips, feeling slightly odd, but not too uncomfortable. She wasn't used to such contact; but, since it was Ragnor, she wasn't too sure she minded. The feeling of his horns touching her forehead felt too good to ever put into words. Catarina had wanted this for so long; to touch him, to kiss him, to  _be_ with him.

Yet those tears returned. She typically wasn't a crier, but she felt as if the situation warranted her to be one. Ragnor was the ( _supposed_ ) love of her life; how was she ever going to be able to get over his loss, and let him go?

"I have to go ..." Ranger murmured, his extra-jointed fingers slowly moving from her cheeks. He moved, trapping her in a tight, comfortable hug. Her hands wrapped around the fabric of his shirt, choosing to bury her face in his shoulder and inhale his familiar, sweet scent; fresh tears spilling from her eyes. 

"Not yet. Please, just don't go yet."

Ragnor's tense body relaxed. "I won't. I won't go until you're ready."

Then, Catarina woke up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
>  pun intended.


	5. father, why have you forsaken me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first person challenge. x

My very first memory is one of the more concerning ones I have. I can remember being tucked into my mothers arms, nuzzling into her neck. I had come to memorize my mothers scent; her voice;  _everything_ about her. After all, I did spend nine months in her womb; listening to her soothing voice as she spoke, and learning that she was the one woman I would always trust. 

I can remember feeling her tense as my father came into the room. He wasn't alone; I couldn't figure out whom was with him. But my fathers voice is still crystal clear to this day; sounding rough and grating upon my young ears. 

" _May I hold him, Maryse?_ " My father asked, placing a hand upon my back.

My mother stiffened. " _What will you do with him, Robert? Alexander and I both are still weak from the labor. I don't want you man-handling him, or hurting him._ " She sounds wary. I remember not wanting to leave her warm arms; to stay curled up with her and feed. She would sing to me as I fell asleep; her voice sounding so soft, so gentle, and ...  _different_.

" _I want to show him to Valentine,_ " my father had answered in a tight, unhappy tone. The change is gentle, but I could easily tell the difference between hands. My mothers hands were soft; gently holding me against her, whilst my fathers were rough; calloused and hot. Still, I felt equally soothed by my father. He had walked me over to the man whom had entered the room with him, passing me off to the unfamiliar person. 

I remember crying in protest as my father let me go, but this man— _Valentine—_ seemed to know how to hold a baby. He had cradled my head in the crook of his arm, keeping his arms underneath me as a form of support. " _He's handsome; just like you._ " Valentine purred towards my father, and Robert had grunted something out gruffly in response. As I grew older, I had come to realize that my father was not the most affectionate of people; family matters made him far more awkward and distant than they should have. Being in the Circle had changed my father; I had come to understand that at an early age.  _"He'll be a fine Shadowhunter_ ," he continued, " _since he does share blood with you and Maryse. A powerful little boy; he and Jonathan could become good friends._ "

My eyes had opened then. They focused on Valentine's face, tracing the sharp planes of his face; his neatly combed back white-blond hair; and they locked on his obsidian irises. They were so sharp; so prominent, so ...  _terrifying_. 

" _Look at those blue eyes!_ " Valentine cried in delight, " _he'll be a fine Shadowhunter, and a future member of the Circle._ "

A lot of my memories had been lost thanks to me growing older. But I still remembered our first house in Idris; the day that the Clave came, and kicked us out. I remembered the tightening of my mothers mouth, and the anger that raged in my father tone; I remember thinking that the Clave were  _far_ from fair, and that they  _couldn't_ drive us from our home! 

I remember when my sister was born. At first, I had been jealous of her; how could my parents do this to me? Why would they bring in another child, when  _I_ was their son, the one whom was born first? I needed them far more than this infant did! But my mother had asked me to hold her;  _Isabelle Sophia Lightwood_ , and once I did? I had fallen in love with her. I looked into her wide, dark eyes; looked at the dark wisps of hair on her head; the soft feeling of her skin against mine. I had closed my eyes, and I had tried not to cry over her. She was so beautiful; so precious; so tiny. One thing that had struck me, as I had grown older and as she had too, were her eyes. They were so black; so  _obsidian_ in color, making me think of none other than Valentine. 

When I was older, and when I knew of what my mother had done behind my fathers back once  _she_ had figured out what  _he_ had done, I chose to never say a singular word to my sister. She already had enough trouble blending in with Shadowhunter's her own age, and struggled with her own self-hatred, so I knew that it would be better to never tell her. I felt so guilty whenever I looked at her, and into those dark eyes of hers, but the guilt eventually faded away. I  _knew_ I was doing it for the right reasons; not to hurt her later on.

Little did I know that she was keeping secrets from me, even though I thought that we were so close.

Regardless, she was the bane of my existence when we were young, but I absolutely adored her. I had been the one to help her after she scraped her knee; I had been the one there to teach her how to walk, and teach her how to chase Church and get away with it before Church clawed you; I had been her big brother. She came running to me every single time she got upset, and every single time she needed to talk about some ridiculous thing, I was always there to listen to her.

And, whenever I needed to speak to her and get things off of my chest, she always sat and nodded along. More often then not, she would tuck me up into her arms, and I would feel so small against her; even if I was the bigger of both of us, she made me feel so ... she made me feel so small; so comforted. 

Max was born soon after, and I found myself falling in love all over again. My brother was so small, and he seemed to fit in my arms so perfectly; I hated having another sibling, but I loved him so much already. My mother seemed to be so protective over him, and she never allowed me to spend too much time with him. " _He needs rest, Alec,_ " she would chide, sending me a sweet glance before whisking him out of my arms. I was jealous all over again, albeit. I missed when it was just my parents and I!

When I was eleven years old, Jace was adopted into our family. I remember peeking into my fathers office, Isabelle right behind me, listening to the hooded Shadowhunter talk to my father about raising Jace. The new addition to my family had been standing behind the Shadowhunter, making it so that I could only see his mop of blond hair, the dark cloak the unfamiliar Shadowhunter had, and my fathers folded, calloused hands. I still remember my fathers voice shaking in rage, then softening as he gazed at Jace.

We weren't allowed to see Jace that first night. My mom didn't want to be around him at all; she was sick of the reminders of the Circle; she saw Jace as an issue. But, one night, she softened towards him. Both of my parents eventually did. They both saw him as their new son; the boy that would strike jealousy into the hearts of all his siblings, and would strike love into mine. I still remember gawking at Jace; my gaze trained on the muscles that swelled on his arms, and the way he threw me curious glances from underneath his thick, dark lashes. At the young age of eleven, I was repulsed by myself; how could I have these feelings for another  _boy_?

At night, I would stay up whilst clutching a pillow to my chest, nervously plucking the soft feathers out from the fabric. 

_You can't like Jace; he's your adoptive brother._

_You can't like Jace; he's a boy._

_You can't like Jace; he's going to become your_ Parabatai _._

I was always so anxious; so upset. I remember hating myself every time I allowed my gaze to examine my  _Parabatai_ ; I remember wanting to be anything but what I was, but there was no cure. There was no way to run from this; to be something entirely different, because this was who I  _am_. But when we got our  _Parabatai_  Runes, and Jace clutched my hand  _so hard I got butterflies in my stomach_ , I felt guilt. I felt so guilty; here I was, getting a  _Parabatai_  Rune with Jace, and I was so damn sure that I was in love with him.

The way his bronzed hand squeezed mine, and the way that he looked at me the entire time, his golden gaze lit with concern as I writhed uncomfortably underneath the stele, I had felt my stomach  _drop_. I was used to the discomfort that the stele brought; the application of the more permanent Runes never bothered me too much. The burning sensation would always fade away once the stele left my skin, and as the Rune darkened to it's natural black state, I still felt ill. I wanted to rip my hand away from my brother, and  _Parabatai,_ and go vomit from the stress, but I had waited it all out. I stayed until Jace got his, and returned the reassuring pressure; and  _then_ went and vomited all alone in my room, wondering about how I could have been so stupid to fall in love with  _Jace_.

I remember things got worse from there on. The new link between us seemed to strengthen; I couldn't bear to be in the same room with Jace and not be able to fawn over him. Max and Isabelle followed Jace like he was the new God of this world, but I followed him like he was the very light of my life. My heart never stilled around him; my face never stopped flushing; my hands never stopped wringing the sleeves of my torn jacket.  _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , I wanted to say to Jace; to make him  _hear_ my confession, but no amount of courage that built within me could ever make those words fall off of my lips.

Besides, it was forbidden to be in love with your  _Parabatai_!

When I was still young, I prayed that I would grow out of my feelings for Jace. But I felt so fearful; I needed to tell someone about who I was; someone that wasn't Isabelle. When I was fifteen, and I was in the  _prime_ of my feelings for Jace, I came out to my father.

Or ... tried to.

I remember knocking on my fathers door, hesitation making me feel as if I were paralyzed. Isabelle told me that I should do it; tell father what I really felt, and what I really was, and stop hiding behind my lies. I was absolutely terrified; I wanted to crawl into a hole, and tell my father that it was all a giant joke. That, one day, I would come to marry a nice Shadowhunter girl and pass on the Lightwood family name. That was never me; I never had a single interest in being with a woman. 

The only interest I took in women was my sister. The way she dressed made me nervous; the short shorts; the short skirts; the short dresses; the low-cut shirts and dresses ... I always thought that it was a bit too much, but I kept my mouth shut for her sake. Isabelle always was going to do whatever she wanted, regardless of what I said about it. I loved her; I would  _never_ let any man, or creature, put their filthy hands on her without her consent. If she continued to dress like this, then I would continue to hover over her with Jace at my side; curling my lip at any man who stared a bit too long, or tried ' _getting some_ '.

Of course, Isabelle could take care of herself, and she only tolerated our protectiveness for too long.

Albeit, that night I tried talking to my father about myself and my ,,,  _issues_ , I realized just how angry it had made him. I still remember knocking on the grand oak doors that led to my fathers personal study, hearing his gruff call of: " _Come in._ " I had slipped into the study, anxiety gnawing a hollow pit inside of my stomach. I longed to tell my father off, and tell him that his homophobia was unreasonable, but there were no words that came to my mind that I could possibly say to him.

Instead, my father stared at me. He had obviously been busy; papers were strewn across his desk, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. They seemed to blend within his dark skin, yet the flickering fire in the fireplace cast daunting shadows across my fathers face, making him seem even more sinister and terrifying than before. I did love my father, and I did respect him; I did  _want_ to be close to him, but he made it impossible for me. He was always harder on me than he was to my other siblings; it was as if he thought that I was weak, or I didn't have enough gall to preform other Shadowhunter tasks. In both of my parents eyes, Jace was the golden son; Isabelle was the perfect daughter; and Max; well, he was the intelligent one. I knew my father wanted Max to take over the Institute when he eventually stepped down, but instead, it would go to me.

" _What do you_   _want_?"My father asked impatiently. His cyan optics bore into mine, and I felt fear strike me again. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, shuffling closer to his desk. My boots sounded eerie against the cackling of the flames, and even though the room was warm, I was soaked in cold sweats. I had dropped hints to my mother about my homosexuality before, and she had always shot me a sharp glance; unsure as to whether I was being serious or not. I always would look away, but I could feel her gaze burning into my back as I walked away from her. I knew as soon as I  _truly_ came out, she was the more likely parent to accept me for who I was. 

Awkwardly, I stared at my father. " _I ... I have something to tell you,_ " I stammered, rubbing the palm of my hand across the back of my neck. I could feel the flush creeping up from my chest; across my neck, and up to my cheeks.

" _Spit it out,_ " Robert snapped. " _I'm busy._ " He waved his hand as a gesture to make me continue, and his impatience only made me even more hesitant. I could hardly breathe; I could feel a panic attack beginning to rise within me. I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him.  _I couldn't tell him._

" _I'm gay_ ," I blurted out, flinching as soon as the words were out. My fathers mouth tightened, but he said nothing. I couldn't tell if this was a good or a bad thing; Robert's silence was sometimes a sign that he was judging how to respond. Wrinkles appeared around his eyes as they narrowed, his upper lip curling into a snarl. I could sense my fathers anger radiating off of him in waves, but also ..  _disappointment_? Disgust?

Robert slowly got to his feet. I immediately took a step back, intimidated by my father. He was a strong Shadowhunter; he's well-known for his cruelty, and his determination to get things done. He looked so dangerous; I wanted to run away as fast as my legs could take me, and never come back. I would rather face a Greater Demon than my father! He was too terrifying; he looked as if he truly wanted to hurt me in this moment.

" _You are_ not  _gay,_ " his voice was tight with absolute rage. " _You are_ confused.  _When you are older, you_ will  _marry a woman. You will have sex with her, and you_ will  _carry on my last name. Alexander, I raised you differently than this._ " His hands tightened around the edge of his desk, and I froze, knowing my next words would provoke a strike.

" _There is no changing who I am! I'm gay; I'm always going to be gay. I won't stop being gay just because you wan—-_ " I broke off; not willingly, of course. 

As I had anticipated, my father had struck me, causing me to go reeling back. His hand had cracked across my face; I could feel blood pooling within my mouth, tangy on my tongue. Tightly, I closed my eyes; willing the pain to go away. My  _Parabatai_ must have felt the sudden spike in my emotions; I would be surprised if Jace didn't feel that! A part of me prayed to the Angel that he didn't; that he was far more involved in reading Max to sleep as opposed to deciding to go looking for me. This was not the first time my father struck me, and I was sure that it would not be the last.

My father spoke; his voice seeping deep into my brain. " _I will hear no more of this 'gay' nonsense. You will never bring it up again; you will never share a bed with a man, nor will you bring a man into_ my  _Institute with the intentions of sin. Understand me, Alexander_?" My father spat at me, disgust clear within his eyes that were identical to mine. " _Do you understand me_?!" He asked again, this time louder; expecting me to answer. 

Shamefully, I hung my head. My toe dug at the carpet as blood dripped down my chin from the split in my lip. " _Yeah. I understand._ " I muttered, taking that as my cue to stalk out of the study. I could feel my father's gaze burning my back as I exited; fear continuously pounding inside of my throat. 

Still, I remember the way my  _Parabatai_ met Clary Fray. I remember taking on the Greater Demon ( of course; the one thing I would rather face than my father! ) ; I remember Magnus Bane flirting with me at his party; the agony that ripped through me as I continued to fade away as poison cursed it's way through my veins, myself being lost to my siblings as the venom attempted to kill me; I remember Jace collapsing beside me, unable to stand correctly due to the pain  _he_ felt thanks to our link. I remember feeling him drift away from me; a sense of calm flooding across my mind.

 _Jace is lost to me,_ I remember thinking,  _I am dying, and Jace is lost._

I remember being healed. I remember sneaking around with Magnus for months. I remember falling down the stairs after we got intimate; the too-spicy pasta that I had choked on; the drink that I spilled over myself; the poor mundane thief I had flipped over my shoulder; the battle in which I had given Magnus my strength; the trip to Idris;  _Sebastian_.

I remember looking into those cold, black eyes; the sinister feeling that crept across me as I spent more and more time with him. I could remember the disgust that rose within me as I realized that Isabelle and Sebastian were flirting; my tongue tasting bitter as I neglected to tell her that they were siblings. My mind _screamed_ at me to tell her this, to get her to  _stop_ flirting with her own brother, but I couldn't do it to her. But what I remember the most is the battle for Alicante; the way Max clutched at me, terror wild in his eyes as he  _begged_ me to stay by his side. I remember pushing Isabelle towards him, promising that I would be back soon; that I would not fall to a horrific fate. Sebastian had been there with them, and I remember the sense of foreboding that spread throughout my entire body as we locked gazes.  _One day, one of us will prevail; and it will be me._ I remember thinking, and I could hear Sebastian's own response as our gazes finally tore apart.

_I will meet you there on that day, Lightwood._

But ... for the Angel's sake, I remember the feeling of  _agony_ as Jace died. I had been fighting a demon; my seraph blade piercing it through it's gory chest; splattering me with gunk and stinging blood, My legs had given out from underneath me moments after. My fingers clawed at my chest where my  _Parabatai_ Rune was, a strangled screech leaving my lips. Tears had pulsed at my waterlines as I fought the desire to go under;  _gasping_ desperately for air. It felt like someone had wrapped a rope around my heart, and was  _pulling. Pulling. Pulling. **Pulling!**_ I couldn't help the second shriek that came from me, and I curled further into myself; blood seeping from the Rune underneath my shirt. I was fully incapacitated; unable to move, nausea making my stomach tighten and roil, and agony making my head  _ache_. I almost prayed to the Angel that my head would just split to save me from this agony. Bile rose in my throat as I fought back the urge to vomit, yet I was too late. It singed my throat as my lunch was thrown back up onto the stones beside me. I spluttered and coughed; moaning as the pain refused to subside. 

The pulling in my chest stopped too suddenly. My symptoms as well seemed to fade away. All too soon, the rope-like feeling in my chest suddenly  _snapped_ , and I was gaping for air. Rain, blood, ichor and mud were mingled into one on my face and my clothes; and I was all too aware of the emptiness I felt inside of me. I could no longer feel Jace; I could not feel his familiar presence, nor could I feel the sense of natural warmth within me. Before we had gotten our  _Parabatai_ Rune, I never realized how cold I felt. But, as soon as we were linked, it felt as if fire had spread inside of me. Ever since, I had grown accustomed to it; relying on it to know that Jace was still _there_. 

But my brother; my  _Parabatai_ ; the first love of my life was dead. I had felt him die, and there was _nothing_ I could have done to stop it. 

I don't know what happened after. I don't know when Max died; when Jace was brought back, and the warmth inside of me was re-ignited. I don't know how I managed to get back to the Penhallow house; I don't know how I managed to do a single thing after that awful experience, and then take part in the battle after. I don't know how I managed to bind myself to Magnus. I don't know how I managed to muster up the courage to come out to  _all_ Shadowhunter's. I don't know how I managed to take part in the battle, nor how I managed to comfort Isabelle.

In the months to come, I'm not sure how I survived without Jace, my  _Parabatai_ , to help me through the recent loss. I remember saying goodbye to Max; guilt pulsing inside of me as I realized just how worthless I was. I should have been there to save him and my sister from Sebastian; I should have been there to  _protect them_. I should have taken Sebastian's silent challenge to heart. I should have stayed with them, and fought against Sebastian no matter what. I should have  _ended_ him before he had the chance to further destroy my family.

My memories of the Mortal War, and the Dark War, are very select. I had come to block out most of what happened after Magnus and I broke up; but I do remember how I horrid I had been towards him. I had tried to take away his immortality; I tried to take something that was not mine to take. My breakup with him had left me completely stunned; struggling to survive. I had drank, and I had refused to eat. I spent most of my nights crying into my pillows, sobbing his name like he was the only thing that could piece my broken self back together and  _praying_ that he would call me.

It never happened, of course. We had had a moment to grow closer, and then he was gone.

After I had gotten him back from the clutches of Sebastian, and things were finally over, I was back to my old self. Things were going great; my most recent memory, albeit? It was telling Magnus to, and I quote, " _Fuck off_." 

I don't know why I had gotten so angry at him for something so trivial; I didn't understand the anger that had blossomed inside of me. My entire body tensed as I had felt the urge to crack my hand across Magnus' face, much as my father had done to me several years ago. Instead, I had swallowed harshly; ignoring the ringing inside of my ears and telling the man I had come to love most in the world to definitely ' _fuck off_ '. It was for something so stupid; something that I didn't even understand myself, but it startled me.

If I was to end up like my father, I don't know if I could bear it! I could never wish to harbor so much rage towards Magnus; he had done nothing but ever try to make me feel wonderful. So, I had fled; tears pricking the back of my eyes and making my way blindly to the only place I knew I could  _think;_ Central Park. Within a half an hour, Magnus had found me. He had seen my curled up, defeated form on the bench, and sat beside me; hesitantly resting a hand upon my shoulder and asking me if I was okay. My heart broke at the concerned tone in his voice. I had almost hurt him. How could I come back from that?

"I don't know," I answered him honestly, my voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what that was; I wanted to  _hit_ you!" 

I felt Magnus' grip on my shoulder tighten, but it was out of a motion of confusion and concern. "I trust you, Alec," he answers me simply. "You are nothing like your father." I gaped at him, shocked, shifting from my previous position to look up at him. It still startles me that he could easily read my thoughts as if I were an open book! "I knew him before you were born. You do not have his rage, nor do you have his tendency to be an asshole," Magnus continues, closing my mouth with a gentle tan finger. "You can be blunt, and some hotheaded, but I love you all the same. But you are not like him, not in the slightest." 

Magnus touched his forehead to mine, and I fought the urge to kiss him. It was like fighting with myself all over again. Being so close to Magnus meant that I had to kiss him; I had to connect our lips. It was instinct. My breathe as hitched inside of my throat as I decided against it, and my eyes closed of their own accord; inhaling the scent of sandalwood. There was going to be a lifetime of sweet kisses stretching out ahead of us; I didn't have to worry that I would not get another chance. "You're not going to end up like your father; I promise you." 

My eyes opened; my cyan meeting his golden. "I hope you're sure."


	6. paint it, black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another first person challenge ! this time: "your favorite character goes dark". x

"Fuck you," I spit, relishing in the tangy taste that leaves my mouth. My hands are bound behind my back, and though my muscles are shrieking at me to  _stop_ fighting, I can't. It's been hours since I lost track of Alec and Jace; I don't know where my brothers went, or even if they'd come back for me. Did they know I was gone? Did they know that Sebastian had sunken his claws into me? I wasn't sure. A distant part of regrets not choosing a  _Parabatai_ whilst I had the chance, but I know it's useless to regret. I would never have gotten along with someone so well that they asked me to do that honor for them; I was always too busy following after my brothers, begging for them to let me join in on their ' _dangerous_ ' activities. 

"Stop fighting me," he purrs close to my ear, and I can't help but flinch. "You know it's useless." His fingers trail down the column of my neck, and I shudder. His fist curls around my hair and he  _yanks_ , pulling my head back. "Stoic silence, Isabelle? I never would have taken you for the stupid type. Don't you remember what I did to Jace?"

My thoughts drift to my adopted brother, and I freeze. Sebastian had applied something he called the  _Dark Alliance_ Rune to Jace's skin, and as Clary had once explained months prior, it had changed every aspect of Jace's being. A chill runs up my spine, and I  _pray_ to the Angel that Sebastian doesn't think that he can get away with applying this to me. I wasn't related to him. It wouldn't work!

Right?

My thumb nail is sharp, and for the past hour, I've been steadily picking at the rope that binds my wrists. It seems to be giving way, but I don't want to let Sebastian know that I'm working on becoming free. My movements have been very minor so far, hardly even detectable. "I've got two words for you," I purr back, but my voice is broken. I'm tired; so very tired. Torture eventually wore you down! " _Fuck. You_."

Sebastian strikes me again,  _hard_. His hand cracks across my face, and my head whips around; blood gushing from my nose and my lips. I gasp in shock, my chest heaving as I fight for breath again. He won't stop here, I realize. It's either going to be death, or he's going to give me that Rune. My muscles tense as I brace myself for the imposing possibly that breaches the calm stature of my mind. Would he really? 

I can't believe I had once been so attracted to this man! I still remember how I had first felt when I first saw him; his black hair brushed back and his obsidian irises, so identical to mine, glimmering with interest. At the time, I hadn't realized just how awful he was. I  _still_ can't believe how awful he is! 

"I still can't believe you're so stupid," he sneers, his thumb and forefinger gripping my bloodied chin. "I would have thought that Valentine's other child would be so smart!"

" _What_?" I start to say before he jerks my head, making my teeth sink into my tongue. I hiss, but I gaze defiantly at him. 

"You didn't know?" His voice is soft, and don't allow myself to be lulled into a false sense of security. I know better. This is a trap. "Your mother, your  _whore_ of a mother, slept with my father after finding out that your 'father' cheated on her." As Sebastian speaks, I find my gaze drawn to his white-blond hair; so similar to Valentine's. My heart twists as I remember how Alec had once tried to tell me the same information, and I had yelled at him to shut up. I didn't want to believe it; it couldn't be real! But the tone of his voice makes me realize that I was only denying the obvious truth.

My silence seems to give him triumph, for his lips curl up into a cruel smile.

"Please," I beg, my voice cracking. "Just stop." 

Before he can utter another word, I feel the all-too familiar sting of a stele crushing against my skin. I can't fight the shriek that rips from my lips, and I writhe underneath it's  _burning_ tip, my body arching against the restraints and fighting to break free. His strong hand places down on my chest, and to my dismay, he's shoving me  _back_ into the chair! How weak have I gotten, just sitting here and taking his torture? Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream again, I sink my teeth deep into my tongue, muscles straining as I fight to keep quiet. 

"Keeping quiet is useless," his voice is silky. 

Purposely, he's drawing this out. His experienced hand could swoop around and finish the Rune within a flawless moment, but he's dragging it across every inch of her porcelain skin to let me  _know_ that this is what I'm about to become. My arm begins to go numb, and I groan, attempting to lean away from Sebastian. His grip is iron-tight as he holds me in place. I don't want to pass out, but there are black shapes dancing in the corners of my vision. Gritting my teeth, I fight against the tempting blackness, hoping that I can stay  _me_ just for a few moments longer.

But I'm lost to memories that I can't control. 

I'm forced to relive Max's death; feeling the hammer connect with my skull and my body convulse; struggling to pick myself back up and face my attacker. I remember my legs feeling like jelly, threatening to give out as I collapse onto the floor, my gaze straying towards the limp from of my brother. I still remember the keening wail that built within the back of my throat as I struggled against temptation to just give in, and my efforts stopped entirely.

I still hear Alec's reassuring voice as he tries to comfort me, and I flinch away; refusing to hear his words that strikes such pain in my heart. I hear Robert's voice, too, yelling at me to  _get the move right_ , and to  _stop fucking around with Alec_. 

"Isabelle," this voice, albeit, is real. It's so close to my ear, and I can feel a soft breath stirring my hair. The pain in my arm is gone, but I can feel the stinging of the Rune. A stillness that reminds me of a blackened calm makes me embrace it more. The fire that burned within me to rebel against Sebastian's instructions extinguishes itself, and I sigh in relief. My body sags against the chair as his grasp loosens on my arm, and I'm permitted a bit more freedom. I don't understand why I was fighting against him in the first place; the details of how I had gotten here, and why I was bloody were fuzzy.

"Do you know who I am?" He asks me, and I flicker my gaze up to his. My eyes slip shut, and I sigh again; this time putting a dramatic edge upon it. As my eyes open, I see his eyebrows draw together in annoyance, so I decide to answer before I dig myself into a grave. 

"You're Sebastian; and I am all yours."


	7. love is blindness

All during the twentieth century, Magnus Bane had been avoiding a certain blonde vampire that had been haunting his thoughts and his life. He had been able to avoid her thus far, but now? He had no idea where she was. It was never a surprise to see her in a club, dancing away with her vampire buddies, or in a small shop, sipping a small cup of coffee and chatting away.

Every time he saw her, it just hurt. It was a dull ache inside of his heart, making the Indonesian male feel as if someone was yanking on his heartstrings and cutting off his air supply.

And now? He found himself standing in the doorway of his loft in New York, looking at the outline of a figure that was resting on his couch. It was a petite figure, one that was curled up in a ball, silvery blonde hair spilling over her shoulder and displaying itself on the couch cushions, giving her a halo that she  _far_ from deserved.

This figure had a name; Camille Belcourt.

"Oh," The soft breath of pain left his finely sculpted lips, causing his pale eyelids to slide over his golden cat-like irises, a shaky noise escaping him. "Why now?" The dark haired male couldn't help the question that fell upon the females sharp ears, slowly striding into the loft. It was a rhetorical question, one that he doesn't expect answered. But she sits up, and he realizes that she's been awake.

"Why now, you ask?" The hum of a female voice replied to his question, her head turning towards him and flicking pale green optics onto the warlock. "It's because I missed you, Magnus." The smile that graced her lips was warm; no sign of venom or arrogance that normally hid behind her beautiful, yet deadly smile. Her lips pull down into a pout as she gazes at him, peeing out from underneath her thick lashes.

When those words fell upon his ears, he shook his head sharply. "No, Camille. I'm sorry. But no matter how much you missed me, I can't get over the fact that you used me." His voice is harsh, and edged with pain. The warlock hid his shaking hands behind his back, stiffly sitting down on the rustic chair, snapping his fingers and making a fire appear in the fire place. The warmth of the flames flooded over him immediately, and he calmed. "There is no way you missed me as much as I missed you."

Blinking her familiar gaze sleepily, she moved over so that she was facing him completely, the same smile gracing her lips. He couldn't distinguish the meaning behind it; was she truly glad to see him, or was she using him all over again? Her lower lip stuck out in a childish pout. "Come lay with me, Magnus. There's room on this couch for two." She offered. Lightly patting the space behind her, she sank her pearly whites into her slim bottom lip, biting back the smile that threatened to take over her entire expression as he caved.

Should he get himself involved with her again? It had hurt a hell of a lot the last time; could he handle that pain again? ... For Camille, yes. He would trudge through hell and back if it meant that he had her by his side again. "Give me a quick moment." He sighed, starting to unlace his glittery combat boots and stripping off his leopard blazer, leaving them both on the floor carelessly.

The immortal creature carefully wound himself around Camille, feeling stiff and uncomfortable with sharing the small couch with her. He had no choice but to drape his arms around her waist, hearing her small sigh of comfort. She was smug. "You do know that this means nothing, right? We aren't a ' _thing_ '. We will never be such again."

"Try saying that again once you've had the chance to rethink that," she replied. Camille turned in his strong grasp so that she could tuck her head into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of sandalwood. "I know you and I know the way you think, Magnus." She murmured abruptly. "You won't be able to keep away from me for long."

Her soft hair was tickling his nose, causing him to instinctively tuck his head down, breathing in the sweet scent of strawberry. It was unfamiliar, but it was better than smelling nothing at all. "You're right." He murmured, his heart giving a painful throb. "You're always right, Camille." He pressed his lips against the crown of her head in a chaste kiss, eyelids flickering shut as tears start to prick at the back of his eyes.

Oh he loved her, but she didn't love him the same way.

It hurt him to know this.  _She_  hurt him.

Running his tanned fingers through her silvery strands, the Indonesian male pressed another chaste kiss to the crown of her head, his warm breath stirring her perfectly placed hair. He felt warm on the inside and the outside, despite the fact that he knew Camille could never make him warm; her body didn't work like that any longer. Everything inside of her was dead, including her heart.

But somehow, she managed to look so peaceful while sleeping. He didn't know when she had drifted off, but now that she was, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Her lips were parted slightly, taking in small breaths that she didn't need. Those ebony eyelashes were lightly rested upon delicate cheekbones, giving her an expression that made her look younger. Camille looked truly beautiful, and it was paining Magnus to look at her.

"I love you." He whispered to her, stroking her silvery strands one last time before pulling himself away from her, ignoring the sleepy groan that came from her. "You'll never love me the same way but I love you. It's always been like this for us; both dancing around the truth that the other knows. This is why we need to part, Camille."

Pulling the blanket from the back of the couch, he draped it over her body gently, watching as she pulled it around her even more, a soft sigh leaving her lips. "This is goodbye, I don't know for how long this time, but this is goodbye for now." Trailing his fingers through her hair one last time, the warlock collected his blazer and slid back on his boots, taking one last look at the apartment before disappearing out the front door.


	8. your scars & mine.

“The days of the single, freewheeling bisexual, cat-like Warlock lying alone in the sun is finally gone!“ 

Those words emit a mixture of a laugh and a snort from the Lightwood. Overcome by a strong sense of love, Magnus reaches forward, sliding their hands together. He could never stop marveling at the differences in their skin tones; Alec‘s was so shockingly pale, even more so when in comparison to Magnus‘ own natural tan. A silent thrill rushes through him as he feels Alec‘s callouses slipping against his silky skin, and he can‘t help but think about how different their lives had been before fate had drawn them together. Their lives were so different; Alec‘s was already so full of pain and torment, whilst Magnus‘ had his suffering spread out. 

He worked more than Alec ever had, but his had been considerably less strenuous. Every single time the Lightwood went out, there was chance that he wouldn‘t come back. 

“What are you thinking?“ Alec asks, and Magnus blinks lazily. 

“A range of things,” is what he chooses to say instead, taking Alec’s other slender hand. He traces his own long, bejeweled fingers along Alec’s, examining the ranges of scars that mar them, and idly, he then begins to trace the Rune upon the back of his hand. 

Magnus can feel Alec’s curious gaze following the movements, but he doesn’t still. He’s always admired some Shadowhunter’s and their grace; their fluidity; their beauty and their resolve to simply _live and protect_. Alec is no different. He is the one that Magnus has chosen to pull underneath his golden wing and hold there until he crumples into dust. 

Tears prick at the backs of his eyes, and the Warlock hesitates, clearing the sticky lump from his throat. Both had agreed to not think of Alec’s mortality; neither of them wanted to contemplate when Alec would reach the point in his life where his life began to peter out. Even when he was gray, wrinkly, and barely even able to remember Magnus—he would _not_ leave his side. 

Would he even make it that far? 

“Don’t think about all that,” Alec warns, and Magnus still finds himself surprised that Alec can easily guess what he was thinking. “That’s in the future; far, far, _far_ away.” 

Alec’s mortality was like a fragile bird; if someone else were to grab his life in their hands, the bird could possibly be crushed, and he’d lose his lover sooner than he’d ever expected. Magnus’ own life stretched out endlessly before him; he could not see an ending, nor could he see any way that he would be killed. He was old, and he was powerful; anyone who tried would end up as a smoldering pile of ash. 

“I can’t help but worry about you,” Magnus answers, his heart caught in his throat. They had been through so much together; so much that it scared Magnus. This was only normal in a Shadowhunter’s lifetime. “I can try to stop, though.” 

Magnus adjusted their position, drawing Alec’s back up against his chest. His long legs were entangled with the Shadowhunter’s, and the lowering sun cast bright rays down upon them. But neither were concerned about the dying rays. Magnus’ chin was gently resting against Alec’s shoulder, whilst Alec had his tucked against Magnus’ chest. His golden hues could easily see the Shadowhunter’s gentle hands, used for both good and bad, and he was glad that Alec could not see his eyes or his expression.

“No you can’t,” Alec teased. His hands raised as he brought Magnus’ up to his, gently pressing a kiss to tan knuckles. “We’ll never know about how much time we’ve had, so we just have to make the most of what we have today.” 

A groan escaped the Warlock’s lips. “You know me too well.”

“Of course; I like to think that I know you as well as you know me now.” Fondly, Alec craned his head back so that he could see Magnus’ expression. “I can tell when you get all upset. You tense up, don’t answer me, and play with my hands. You have a bad habit of examining my scars when you’re thinking about mortality.”

“Maybe I should have let you take my immortality,” Magnus sighed, but he knows that things would be far different if that were the case. If his immortality were gone, what would happen to him? Would his years catch up to him, and would his body keel over on the spot? “I’m just scared of losing you.”

“I know. Fear is natural; it’s something we all experience When I lost you . . .“ His voice grew all choked up. 

Magnus gripped Alec tighter. “We don’t need to talk about that—-“

“ _No_ ,” Alec’s voice was now firm. “I was so scared for you. I wanted to know that you were okay, that Sebastian hadn’t hurt you.” Magnus couldn’t tear his gaze from Alec’s endless cyan irises. He was always lost by them; always so damn consumed and never even attempting to break eye contact. “I needed you to be okay. I _still_ need you to be okay.”

Lovingly, Magnus nuzzled Alec’s head, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “I am okay. We’re both okay.”

Determinedly, Alec rolled up Magnus’ sequined sleeves, his rough fingertips brushing against a white scar. It wrapped around the inside of his wrist, jaggedly breaking through the tan pallor of his skin up to his elbow. It had been a shallow wound, but the force of the blow and the width of the wound made it hard to heal, and hard to keep infection from entering his body. 

“Remember how you got this? Sebastian, right.” His voice didn’t have a question in it; it was fierce, burning with rage. “Look at this scar; the wound itself could have killed you. You could have bled out, or you could have gotten an infection, or _whatever_. It could have taken you from me but it didn’t. Just like this could have taken me from you.” 

Magnus watched as Alec shuffled away from their embrace, and thus pulled off his shirt. It was something more practical; a brown cotton tee-shirt with quarter sleeves. To Magnus; utter delight, it was not moth-eaten nor torn in any sense. Satisfaction set in after, and he raised his eyebrows, firmly twining his hands together in his lap. He wanted to reach out and touch those wash-board abs, and to slide up to tilt Alec’s chin up for a kiss—-

_No,_ this was not the time for sex thoughts. 

“But it didn’t.” Alec picked up where he left off, but the twinkling in his eyes suggested that he knew exactly what Magnus had been thinking. 

Alec’s hands trace over multiple large scars that mar the rest of his body. Seraph blade scars; demon scars; magic scars; all of which that could have stolen Alec from him if they had been deadly enough. 

“You know,” Magnus says, deciding to switch the conversation from the direction it was heading. It was going to be angsty; it was going to end in angsty sex, too. He would rather sweet, tender sex instead! “We’re already halfway there.”

“You’re so predictable,” Alec growls playfully. 

“That’s what you love about me.” Was the last thing Magnus was able to coherently say before both parties were locked in a sweet kiss.


	9. so take this night, and wrap it around me like a sheet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little drabble from a modern ! sebisa fanfictions i have in the works ?

“Isabelle, hey, _Isabelle_!” Hands shake her shoulders incredibly gently, and she snaps back into attention. Hazily, her obsidian hues locked upon her brothers cyan ones, and she blinks slowly. “Oh thank goodness, you’re okay.”

_Okay_. 

His singular word echoes in her head, and she snaps fully awake. She slips her hands into his, sliding them off of her shoulders and she brought them to where she could examine both of their hands. They were so similar, yet hers looked as if they were had been put through the grinder. 

A few strands of black hair are caught in her fingernails, and she could see that one was gone. Her nail-bed was gone, and her stomach clenched at the thought of having to clean that up. Anger gripped her insides at the fact that she would now have to fucking trim down _all_ of her nails, and fix everything so the missing one didn’t look so different! 

Blood was also crusted on her fingertips, and her forearms were clawed up. Though she was afraid to check out the rest of her body, she knew that she had to in order to get a good idea of what else was wrong with her.

“What happened, Izzy?” Alec pressed, and she used him as a brace to rise to her feet. 

Her legs were trembling, but she forced herself to stand upright. Alec was rising beside her, his arm snaking around her waist in order to keep her upright. Gratefully, she leaned against him, happy to have him to support her. 

“Isabelle,” he pressed again, clearly desperate for an answer. “What in the hell happened to you?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Isabelle’s obsidian hues draw over her bruised thighs, and her bruised forearms, hatred and a strange sense of absolution rising in her throat. She felt fully satisfied, and her concepts of pain and pleasure had been mixed alarmingly during that prior night, but she _knew_ she shouldn’t have liked what was done to her. 

Not like this. She should have enjoyed this type of treatment from someone else—someone who didn’t leave her like _this_. 

“Sebastian,” she croaked. His name sends a trill through her entire body, and she fights the urge to elaborate more. “Sebastian did this.”


	10. sour cherries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was listening to sour cherry & it sparked sebisa muse && now i decided that every dark ! isa chapter i add, i'm gonna write it in first person. 
> 
> ,,, that was all over the place but i just love this pairing so much, even if it is kind wrong ,,, ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ fiTE ME DUDES.

“Isabelle.”

Sebastian’s voice is sharp, and I feel a strange compulsion to draw forward towards him. My movements aren’t my own; I feel trapped within my own mind, controlled by this _creature_ that he’s brought into my body. It feels so foreign to feel myself be drawn closer to him, like my limbs are on puppet strings. 

“Sebastian?” 

I answer, brazenly sliding my hands down his shoulders. I wrap my arms around his neck, resting my cheek upon the crown of his head, his short hair tickling my nose. I don’t feel the urge to sneeze, which is surprising to me. 

“You have been very loyal to me,” Sebastian purrs, and satisfaction rises within me. I love the sound of his voice. I love hearing him speak, and I love it even _more_ when he speaks to me. I want to be with him, and around him at all times, no matter what it takes. 

 _None of this is real!_ I try shrieking inside of my own head, trying to beat off the darker thing possessing my brain. _You feel nothing for the creature that killed your brother! Remember Max, and how he died! Remember Alec! Remember your reasons to fight!_

 _You just can’t admit to yourself that you do have feelings for him . . ._ A second, darker version sings back, and I can’t help but shudder. 

Not that I _actually_ shuddered; I physically had no control over myself.

“I’m going to end up needing your help,” Sebastian goes on, unfurling himself from my grasp so that he could face me. I’m struck with his beauty; the planes of his face are heightened by the shadows flickering across his pale pallor, and his obsidian hues, identical to my own, are focused solely upon mine. 

It unnerved me to have him staring at me like this.

“What for?” I ask playfully, drawing a hand down his shoulder. 

“Alec. I want to get him on our side; he would be useful to get to Jace.” Sebastian pulls away completely, only to prowl around me like an animal would. I steady myself, slowly following his movements whilst turning on my heel. My skills are enough to keep me balanced on one foot, to watch him. I admire the fluidly of his movements, and the grace. He’s more then I would ever be; but then again . . . He was different than I. He had demons blood infused into him; I was just a normal Shadowhunter; nothing special about me. 

Nothing but the Rune that burns into my shoulder, constantly reminding me that I am his. 

His. 

 _His_.

Sebastian’s arms suddenly whip out, snagging me around my waist. Before I know it, one of my legs is wrapped around his waist and I’m having slight issues balancing upon the foot with a broken heel, but I attempt to keep my weight evenly balanced so that I don’t lean into him. 

Although I want to let myself fall into him, but I know he would drop me. 

“I can help with that,” I whisper, painfully aware of how close he is to me.

 _Push him away!_ I cry internally, but, I’m harshly shushed by the part of me that’s in control.

“Alec doesn’t even know about what happened,” I continue, my voice ragged, yet smooth. “It will be easy to manipulate him. He won’t even know what happened.” I feel a mixture of condescendence and triumph. He won’t even see this coming!

“That is a fabulous idea,” he says, and I can feel his warm breath touching my lips. “You will find him when I tell you to, and you will bring him to me.” 

“I will bring him to you,” I echo. “I can do that!”

“And I will reward you for what you do successfully,” he continues, and I briefly wonder what he means by _reward_ until I feel his lips against mine, just gently brushing against them.

I shiver, but I hold still, knowing that he could shove me away if I take it too far. But my self-control is awful, and I snag his lips against mine. For a moment, he kisses me back, his lips so firm and terse and _warm_ against mine, then he’s gone. 

I feel oddly cold without him touching me.


End file.
